Kiss with a Fist
by makeyoustrong
Summary: She's a teenage runaway-a stripper, a whore. He's a deadbeat with no aspirations. An unconventional romance sparks, but their past is catching up with them. Only she can't runaway this time, and he won't leave her for the world.
1. Chapter One: Mallory

**Mallory**

It always starts in a bar. Usually. In my case, a strip club. You see someone and you know that it's him, _the one_. For me it's different. I saw the man not too much older than me, and I knew something. It wasn't that he was my soul mate. No, it was that by his cocky smirk I knew he'd tip well.

I sauntered towards him, trying to catch his eye. I was revealing a lot of skin, showing my lack of curves. Guys these days liked skinny girls. Most of them. I hoped he was one of those guys. I never had to worry about dieting because you had to have money to buy food and I was dirt poor. I had to fuck my landlord in order to stay in my shitty den that is a house. A terrifying experience, but worth it in the end. I wondered what I would have to do to get air conditioning and heating.

It was a busy night. I already had a wad of bills slipped into my lingerie. Some were fives, which were nice, but most were ones. I could pay rent this time with money instead of service. The owner of the strip club, Paul, tried to make the club feel exotic with red pulsing lights and mist. The runway which I walked on was clear like ice, making it seem like the dancers were walking on nothing. I finally approached my pole, flickering my eyes seductively towards the man. I wrapped my legs around the pole, spinning erotically around it. I grinded, I danced, and I even grabbed my tits for the full effect. It wasn't until I was out of breath when I slid down the pole to end up sitting before him. I wrapped my legs around his neck, pulling him closer. I fell gracefully in his lap, grinning a grin that could break thousands of hearts.

"How are you doing tonight?" I asked in a low voice, fingering his collar. I found a button and opened it. Hair was smattered across his chest. It wasn't unappealing. It was sexy, manly. I ran my hand through it, down his chest, and back up again.

"Fine," he said in monotone. "Yourself?" Huh. So he wasn't interested. Thank you, dude, for creating a new goal for me. I felt his zipper pressed against my leg and nothing else. I decided it was all or nothing, so I leaned into his ear.

"I'm great. I'd be better if you came with me." I pointed to the back of the club. I pulled back from him to study his reaction. Instead of feeling pressure against my leg, I saw his face with the same bored expression. Bored, but still very beautiful. What was it with these New York guys his age? The early twenties ones were the best. He couldn't be more than twenty himself. I'd give him twenty-one because of the beer in his left hand. Then again, Paul never was one to check IDs. I should know since I started working at Paul's Peek at seventeen.

His expression changed and he looked up at me. That's when I saw his intense blue eyes as his brows crinkled. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen." I tried to keep my face straight, but I felt it falter. I was seventeen, soon to be eighteen. My birthday was coming up so I was glad I could tell a smidge of the truth.

"Please get off of me," he demanded. I panicked, removing myself off of him liked he asked, but I pushed his chest angrily.

"Asshole!" I cursed.

"Look, I never wanted to come. Aidan—my whore of a roomate—thought I deserved a night out."

"You're lying." I turned, walking off, ignoring that he basically called me a whore, too. I thought I'd get something from this dude, this fucktard who had no dick. Nothing. I wanted to get plenty of money, maybe treat myself at the diner after my shift was up.

"He's in the back where you want me to be," he called, then I turned towards his voice.

I gave him a pointed look. "You're still an asshole."

"Look. I'm sorry. Here." He pulled out his beat wallet and took out a twenty, proving that he really did think I was a cheap skank. Maybe I was. I searched for one of those black AmEx cards to see if he was rich. If he was from money, giving me some wouldn't mean a thing. However, I only spied an ID and a condom along with a few smaller bills. I snatched the bill out of his hands before he could change his mind and stuffed it in my bra. I wasn't greedy. I wasn't selfish. I was hungry.

"Thanks," I told him over the loud music that was playing in the background. I stepped closer to him to kiss his cheek. I wasn't wearing trampy red lipstick, but my gloss still left a mark.

He blinked rapidly after the kiss, breathing heavily. I smiled up at him, knowing the effect I could have on people like him. He shook his head as if he was in deep thought, then asked, "How old are you? Really?"

"How old do I look?" I retorted back to him.

"Sixteen. Maybe fifteen. You're small." He looked me over one last time. I felt, for the first time in a long time, that I should cover up.

"I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen," I said haughtily.

"You're, what, seventeen then?" he guessed. When I looked down at my feet he said, "Caught you."

"Are you an undercover cop or some shit? Jesus." My eyes widened and I started backing away.

"I'm not a cop. I don't think I'm mentally qualified to carry a gun."

"Then who are you?" Something in his smolder told me to trust him. He didn't look like the asshole I had called him; he looked genuinely concerned for my well being.

"Tyler." He held out his hand.

I shook reluctantly. "Mallory."

"Is that your real name?"

That was when I walked away for good.


	2. Chapter Two: Tyler

**Tyler**

I ran my hand through my hair, digging my other hand into my breast pocket to pull out a pack of Marlboros. I didn't know if smoking was allowed in the shithole strip club, but I couldn't give two fucks. I needed a nicotine fix, and luckily I had a full pack. Maybe I would die from lung cancer. It could be worse—like dying from heartbreak.

No, nothing is worse than that.

I inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs, feeling the burn and taste of tobacco on my tongue. I watched Mallory just walk away, sauntering off to who knows where. The girl was just that—a girl. Not even legal. Not even a woman, yet she surely looked like one. I felt like a pedophile when I watched her toned ass walk off, but I couldn't help it. She was a sight to see.

No, nothing was more beautiful than Ally.

I liked blondes. I liked Ally. _Loved_, I corrected myself. Past tense. She was untouchable now, as her father was a cop. I became her safe harbor for weeks after the man beat the hell out of her, but she always ran back to him. Ally needed help I couldn't give her. I felt guilty for not giving her what she needed, like it was my fault she was so fucked up. Maybe her insanity rubbed off on me. It felt like it.

I heard Aidan's voice yell behind me. I turned around, and he was directly in front of me. "Hey, fucker, you missed out while you were moping. Angel in there," he pointed towards the back of the club, "is wicked talented."

"Is she now? Because I don't want to hear about it."

"Right. I forgot. You're deprived. She's cheap, man."

"I'm not going to get head from a herpes infested mouth."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged. "What'd you do while I was gone?" Aidan wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Forget it. Buy me a beer. You promised."

He lead me to the bar where he ordered two shots, sliding one towards me. I gave him a pointed look, wondering when I'd get my Heineken. "One shot. One." He held up a finger. I sniffed the shot. Why not? I downed it, finding the burn to be much more satisfying than that of a cigarette.

But it was like eating a chip: you can't just have one. Especially with Aidan around.

"You're buying, asshole! I'm not getting hammered at my own expense." Besides, I'd already given too much to Mallory that night. I had more money, but someone had to pay bills and it wasn't going to be the irresponsible Aidan and I would have rather died then let _Charles Hawkins _lift a finger for me.

The shots kept on sliding, and I kept on drinking. Aidan was picking up girls while I downed more and more liquor. I was drowning in my sorrows, and I couldn't sink far enough. I couldn't resurface. I didn't want to. So I threw my head back again.

I was hunched over the bar with a pounding headache when Aidan nudged my side. "Chloe and I are getting out of here. You with me?" I looked up, seeing double. I had tolerance for alcohol, but not for that much. A stack of shot glasses were towered in front of me, threatening to tip over. I breathed in my hand, smelling my breath. It was all Jack and Jager. The scent of cigarettes no longer lingered.

"Sure," I slurred. I was fucked out of my mind.

We left the club, a petite blonde attached to Aidan's side. I snickered, doubling over in drunken laughter. The girl was just another fuck to him. She was oblivious. I wondered what line he used on her or what lie he told. Maybe the one where his father had a penthouse apartment in the Upper East Side, but that was surely a lie. That was my dad, not his. I wasn't even sure Aidan had a father.

"Pencil dick! Stop, asshole! Give me my fucking money!" I heard a familiar voice from an alley screech. I was curious so I moved towards the sound, still laughing at Aidan's girl.

"Tyler, what are you doing? It's just another whore. C'mon, man. It's late. Right, Chloe?" Aidan called as I walked away. I didn't turn back. I stepped into the alley, seeing Mallory all frazzled up next to a grimy thirty year old. His hand was on her inner thigh, and he was smiling mischievously. I watched as his fingers trailed up her skirt. Mallory's eyes widened, panic-stricken. I staggered towards them, ending up before the man, blocking his view of Mallory. I slapped his hand away from her legs, pushing Mallory back against the other wall as far away from the man as possible.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He stuck his finger on my chest. I swatted it away.

"She said stop, didn't she? Fuck off."

"This is none of your business, kid."

"Kid? _Me_? She's no more than seventeen, you sick fuck." I pushed him against the wall. His hand left my chest and went to my throat. He throttled it, and I used my hands to reach his. We had each other choked, but his grip was stronger. I was dizzy already from drinking, but now I was so lightheaded I felt like passing out. Mallory's screams in the background were far away, fading. I let go of his throat in one last attempt to distract him. I pulled my hand back and punched him straight in the jaw, hearing a satisfying crunch of bones. His grip loosened, and I took it as an opportunity to kick him directly in the balls. It was a bitch move, but it made him fall to the ground. I fell to my knees, bending over him. I grabbed his neck to make his eyes meet mine. With a smile, I pulled my fist back one last time and hit him square in the nose. I wiped his blood off on my pants.

"Tyler! Stop!" Mallory grabbed my shoulder and pulled me off of the man. "It's ok." Her hand cupped my jaw. "I'm ok. Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl." She patted me and pulled her hand away.

"You're just a child-"

"And you're acting like one. I'm fine. Go to your friends." She nodded to the end of the alleyway where Aidan and his one night stand were waiting. It looked like Aidan was fighting with his girl. His hands were gesticulating manically, and I heard his yelling.

"You did _what_? Why the fuck would you do that?"

I turned toward Mallory who was rubbing her arms like she was cold. I started taking off my jacket, but she stopped me. "I'm a big girl," she reminded me.

"Right."

"Your friends are still waiting."

"Right."

"Am I going to have to force you to leave?"

"Right," I said for a third time and smiled. "I'm going. I'll see you around, Mallory."

"I hope not." My heart sunk. "This guy's a regular." She pointed at the man who was still passed out. "And he has a temper."

"I'm a big boy."

"Ty! Hurry up. We need to go. Now."

I spun and walked to Aidan's voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mallory bend down and snatch the man's wallet from his back pocket and pull out a few bills. I shook my head, deciding to not intervene. He deserved it.

"Shit," Aidan cursed when I finally reached him. "Chloe left. She called the cops. We need to go."

"What? Why the fuck would she do that?"

"She said she thought you were getting attacked."

"What a bitch. You sure do pick the good ones."

"Says you," he countered, nodding in Mallory's direction. She was bent over the guy still. I saw her spit on him. I grinned, then remembered the trouble ahead.

"Take a cab?"

"You're buying."

We half-walked/half-ran to the street. I hailed a cab, opening the door as soon as it stopped for us. I hopped in, leaning back on the seat and telling myself to never forget this night.


	3. Chapter Three: Mallory

**Mallory**

My landlord liked to greet me whenever I got home every night from work. He thought we had something going on, and I thought he was out of his mind. I would never touch him again as long as I had enough money to pay bills. I threw an envelope full of cash at him for this month's rent, then fished the key out of the mailbox. The chain kept slipping from my grip so I was relieved when I finally pulled it up. I unlocked the house, slamming the door behind me as I walked in.

_Home sweet home_, I thought bitterly.

I took a seat on the couch that served as my bed. I scored it from the side of the road one night. It was a sleeper bed which was good for business. No one likes to get off on just a couch unless they are in the mood. When I give myself up, I'm never in the mood. At least with a mattress I can act better instead of readjusting myself to get comfortable.

That's what I considered myself: an actress. A damn good one. It took a lot to moan when some sweaty Italian was thrusting on top of you. I shuddered, pushing the memory away.

I rummaged through my dresser until I found a stack of rolling papers and a clump of weed. Paul's was stressful, and I knew just the cure. The girls from the club taught me how to roll and I was finally getting the hang of it. I wrapped it up, then dug my lighter out of yesterday's pants in the laundry pile. I lit the joint, letting the aroma fill the air, and inhaled. I fell back on the sleeper sofa, landing roughly on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, taking another drag and wondering if I could ever get out of this mess. I realized I couldn't so I took another drag. Relief.

But my mind always went back to tonight at Paul's. I thought I had everything sorted out. I'd get enough money to go back to New Orleans and see Doug, but someone was preventing that.

Tyler.

No one had ever been so kind to me before aside from Doug. I knew I had to be wary about Tyler because he was just as much as a low life as I was. When he hit Georgie for touching me in the alley, I could smell the rank liquor on his breath. He wasn't being chivalrous. He was being a drunk. It made me think that no one else out there will ever be as good to me as Doug was.

That's why I left him and Lois. I wasn't deserving of their love. I didn't need to be a burden on them. His money shouldn't be given to me. I was a big girl, as I said to Tyler, and I didn't need help. I could handle myself. I'd been raising myself since my mom died in the crash. The foster parents I had growing up ignored me as much as my birth mother did. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could be an adult on my own. I was doing a good job by the looks of it. I had a place to myself. I had clothes. Now I had money for food.

I put out the joint, setting the roach in a tumbler on the side table. I had no watch, but with a peek outside the window I could tell that it was already beginning to be dawn. I stripped myself, uncovering my body and exposing the bruises on my legs. Dancing was hard, brutal work. I usually covered the spots up with makeup, but it had sweated off. I changed into a new pair of underwear and climbed in bed topless. It was hot, and the smoke wasn't helping my case. I drifted to sleep in a foggy haze.

A rapping at my door woke me up, and I shot out of bed, angry that I'd been woken from my slumber. I found a sheet and covered myself up while walking to the door. I swung the door open to reveal my landlord. "What's up, Mike?"

"Your rent wasn't enough." He slid by me and invited himself inside. He was a balding on top of his head, but hairy everywhere else. Gray was sprinkled in what hair he had left on his head. His gut protruded from his body from all of the Bud Lights he drank. He wore faded, outdated clothes with gold rings and necklaces. He looked like a wannabe pimp. He wasn't a slightly attractive man which probably led him to my door in the first place.

I covered myself up more, turning to face him. "Bullshit," I spat. I counted the money in the envelope. I had enough. Maybe I hadn't had a traditional education, but I knew how to fucking count.

Mike sat on my bed, the mattress caving in where he sat, patting the spot next to him. "You were a hundred short."

I hoisted the sheet up with one hand and put the other on my hip."A hundred? That's weird because that's exactly how much I charge for-"

"There's a waiting list for this apartment. I need that money soon. Unless you can give me something else that will be to your benefit and mine, then you're shit out of luck."

"What do you want?"

"You haven't sucked my dick in a while."

I snorted. He was straightforward. "That's all you want? I figured you'd want a fisting." Not like I'd participate in _that_ anyway.

He shrugged, standing up. He appraised me, licking his chapped lips, and I wrapped the sheet around me a bit more."I'll be back soon. I need an answer. Paul and I had a deal that if I house his whores I'd occasionally get something out of it."

"Whatever. Not today. Bye, Mike," I said as he made his way to the door.

"Think about it, bitch, or you're going to be on the streets before you know it. Don't tempt me." He closed the door behind him, creating a slamming sound. I stared at the slumping spot where he sat on my bed. Then I decided what I needed to do.

I had to get out of there.


	4. Chapter Four: Tyler

**Tyler**

We had successfully avoided the cops, and we got home safe. Aidan was still mad at me for making him lose his easy lay. I slept all afternoon until I was woken up by a call from my little sister, Caroline. I groaned, pulling on a pair of jeans and a slightly dirty t-shirt, and answered the phone.

"Remember me? It's your adorable sister, Caroline."

"Her? Of course I do. She's my favorite sister."

"Not funny, Tyler. You were supposed to meet me and Mom at the diner. You're late. By four hours."

"Shit," I cursed, then caught myself when I remembered who I was talking to. "I had a rough night."

"You sound like it. Dad says the only nutrition you get is from beer."

"That might be the only thing he's right about. Do you want to meet today?"

"I'll get Mom to take me to the diner again. You better be there!" She hung up. The little girl was too smart for her age. I threw the phone down on my bed. I found Aidan dead asleep in his bunk. I wanted to wake him, but I couldn't be that big of an asshole no matter how much one he was. I left the apartment, going to the diner on Wall Street. I walked in and saw Caroline sitting in our usual booth. She was sketching away in her pad. She had an assortment of pencils set out neatly before her. Mom was in the seat across from her. I went to them, catching Mom's attention.

"Tyler! Sweetie," she said, hopping up to give me a hug. She moved out of the booth and I took her seat.

"Have her back before dinner. Caroline, if he offers you any cigarettes just say no, ok?" She winked.

Caroline scrunched her nose. "Gross."

"That's my girl." She patted her daughter's head, then bent down to plant a kiss on top of mine. I didn't have the heart to tell her to not do that in public. She left, telling us that she'd see us soon.

"What are you drawing, little Picasso?"

"I'm not that good. It's a picture of when we went to the beach last year for your birthday. Remember that?"

"When Aidan had too many Jello shots? How could I forget?"

She shook her head. "I ordered a cupcake. Mom said you would pay."

"Don't you have your allowance?" I asked, kidding.

"I'm saving it for art school."

I shook my head at her maturity, standing up to order a coffee at the counter. I leaned against the countertop, waiting for someone to take my order. I was a regular so it shouldn't have taken so long. The bell on the door rang and I instinctively turned my head. The girl who walked through the door was familiar, only this time she had clothes on.

Mallory.

What were the odds of us meeting up in a city so big? It was an over-used romantic comedy cliché and it was happening to me. What else could go wrong in my life—or _right_? She looked up from her bag where she was pulling a wad of bills out of and saw me staring. Her eyes widened, then her face calmed. She recognized me, too.

"Hey," she said, coming to stand by me, pocketing her money, smirking. I smiled back at her. "Thanks for everything, you know, last night."

"No problem." I looked her over again. She looked rough. Her sneakers had holes in them, and her coat reeked of cigarettes and weed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked suspiciously.

"I could say the same."

"I come here all the time." She threw her chin up, rolling her eyes. Her chest was exposed. It was hard to keep my eyes from her, my hands off of her. She was doing it on purpose. I could tell by her pulling down the hem of her shirt. I averted my eyes.

"I've never seen you here before." The waitress recognized me and poured a coffee. She slid it to me. I nodded in thanks, picking up my drink. "And I come here all the time." I took a sip.

"I think you're stalking me." She smiled playfully.

"Perhaps," I replied, moving around her to take a seat at the booth. Caroline looked up from her drawing, studying Mallory and me. Mallory still stood with her hand on her hips, hovering over the table we sat at. "Caroline, this is Mallory. Mallory, this is Caroline, also known as da Vinci."

"Nice to meet you, da Vinci." She stuttered, but got control of herself again. "I love your work. The Mona Lisa is a masterpiece." Mallory stuck out her hand which Caroline shook. I was surprised Mallory knew who da Vinci was, given her line of work, then I felt bad for judging her. I didn't know her past, and I barely knew her present.

"Tyler, stop saying I'm good. I'm not. Not yet, anyways." She shook her head to herself, and looked down to continue drawing.

I remembered Mallory and moved over to make room for her. I patted the spot next to me, and she sat. "Do you want something? I'll pay."

"I can pay for it myself," she said, offended.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "You can expect me to believe you just happened to show up here. Did you follow me or something?" I tapped my hands on the table, waiting for her response.

Her eyebrows rose. "Fuck you. I told you I'm a regular." She turned her head and called to a waitress, "Yo, May, I need a grinder over here!"

The waitress shot her head up, smiling over at Mallory. "The usual?"

Mallory nodded, giving me a pointed look. "See?"

"I guess you weren't lying." I felt Caroline's eyes on me. I raised my brows, smirking. "You finished? Mom wants you back soon."

"I'll call her. You're busy." She pulled out a tiny silver cellphone.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked curiously.

"Dad said I needed it for 'safety reasons'. I barely know how to use it." She bit her lip, dialing a number, then putting the phone to her ear. Her eyes brightened when someone answered on the other line. I turned my attention towards Mallory.

"Since you're a stalker, I suppose I'll see you again."

"I'm working tonight."

"I'm sure Aidan will drag me out again. He's desperate." I realized what I said, regretting my words. She didn't seem to mind.

"You could come out alone, you know. He shouldn't be the only reason you want to see me."

"Oh?" I slung my arm around her, daring her to say something else like that. "Then I'll see you tonight." I didn't go any further, remembering my little sister across from me.

"ORDER UP!"

Mallory slid out of the booth to grab her sandwich, trailing her hand on my arm as she left me. It was already wrapped, so she picked it up off of the counter, throwing a ten on where it used to sit. She spun to give me a half wave. She called out a goodbye to the waitress, May, and left without a word to me. I laughed as she walked off. It seemed like she was flaunting herself, but it could have just been my imagination.

"Is she your new girlfriend?" Caroline asked, watching Mallory leave.

I laughed. "No," I said shortly, not wanting to explain further.


	5. Chapter Five: Mallory

**Mallory**

It was to my surprise when I saw Tyler at the diner. I had been going to the Wall Street Diner as long as I'd been staying in the city. It was the first place I ate at when I mistakenly got off the train at the wrong stop. I wandered the streets until my stomach growled, feeling out of place as all the suits stared me down like I was some kind of animal. I found shelter in the diner, and I visited the restaurant ever since. It was a guilty pleasure. Plus, I fucking loved their subs.

Seeing Tyler and talking to him outside of the club was effortless. I quickly realized that the same person I met in the club was the same person I met in the diner. His sister made no connection to me, acting standoffish. I didn't get offended, remembering that I was exactly like Caroline when I was her age. As Tyler and I spoke, I assembled my plan. I invited to the club again that night, knowing he'd comply. How could he not with the look I gave him? I knew he'd listen to everything I said because of the smirks I gave him, because of all the lip biting I did, because of the soft touches to his thighs. I also knew that he'd also say yes to me when I asked if I could crash at his place. It could have been my intuition, or it could have been my low cut top.

I asked him after I danced that night. He showed up, wearing the same plaid shirt he wore earlier that day. I had on classic black lace with too much eye-liner on my eyes. I was any man's fantasy. The way I danced wasn't like the previous night. I didn't grind. I didn't jiggle what tits I had. I slid down the pole seductively, eyeing him, giving him little glances that I knew would rile him up. I trailed my fingers down my chest, down my stomach, moving closer to my pussy, bending over to reach him. Like our other encounter, I opened his shirt. This time I didn't stop at one button. I kept going until he placed his hand on mine. Our eyes connected, and I hopped off of the stage to lean into him, my heels making a loud clack when they hit the ground.

Tyler cleared his throat, gently placing his hand atop of mine. "This is wrong of me."

"Fuck that. Don't be that way." I moved in closer, my nose grazing his. I made him stare at me, making him forget the smoke that floated in the club, the howls of other men, the giggles of my co-workers. It was us, like the world had melted away as we stared into each others eyes. In that moment I knew all my plans would work out for me. I'd get exactly what I wanted for the first time in my life. The hand I was dealt never gave me good luck, but maybe I had drawn a lucky card right then.

He stood from his stool, backing away from me. "Mallory..."

"How long are we going to play this game? I know you want me for a good fuck. Just get it over with. Jesus Christ. I want you for something, too."

"And what's that?" Good. He didn't deny that he wanted me. I smiled to myself.

"I need a place to stay tonight." My voice lowered to a seething whisper, then I took his hand to pull him along with me. "I can't fucking stand my landlord anymore. The longer I stay with him, the more he thinks I'm going to fuck him again."

"_Again_?" Tyler palmed his face. We were walking away from the crowded areas of the club towards the back room to talk in a more private area. I closed the door as we entered a private room.

"Yeah, it's my idea of fun." I deadpanned. I placed my hand on my shoulder, pulling down the strap to my bra. It was see through, but the closer the better.

"Mallory, I can't fuck you here." Not here, but somewhere else. In his own bed, maybe? Was he more comfortable there?

"Then where? We have other rooms upstairs. More private, less noise."

"I'm not going to touch you." He backed up, putting his hands in the air to block me.

I didn't let him get too far from me. "My birthday's soon. In August. I'll be eighteen," I pointed out. He shook his head, sitting down on a plush cushion. "I wouldn't sit on that," I warned him.

"Thanks." He got up, wiping his hands off as if that would rid him of the germs. "You need a place to stay. Don't you have any friends?"

"No. I haven't worked here long."

"I'm a complete stranger. I could be a pedophile. A peeping Tom. And I don't clean up after myself."

"I'm seventeen. You're in a private room in a strip club with me. Being in your apartment won't be much different. I hate cleaning, too. We're a perfect match. Why can't you just say yes already and get it over with?" I felt like I was whining. I leaned against the door, crossing my arms against myself. I knew luck was on my side. The whines were working. Eventually it would be time for moaning and I was ready for anything.

"Ok." He nodded to himself. "Ok. I just need to call Aidan. I'm sure he'll be psyched. Do you need to go back to your place?"

"I've already packed. My shit's in the dressing room." I threw my thumb over my shoulder. "We'll go after my shift, right?"

"You're quick."

"Don't test me." I winked, opening the door to exit, leaving him awestruck.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I've been trying to keep author's notes to a minimum. Remember: reviews are as addicting as Tyler's cigarettes. ;)**


	6. Chapter Six: Tyler

**Tyler**

I was getting antsy while waiting for Mallory's shift to be up. I couldn't sit in the club anymore watching her. As dirty as I felt, I was still getting attached. I hated that. I was still healing from what Aidan had coined the "Ally Incident". I stood outside against the brick wall smoking until I heard her come outside.

"Hey," I greeted her, stubbing out my cigarette on the sole of my shoe. There was a lot left on it so I stuck it behind my ear to finish later.

"Hey," Mallory replied, backing me up on the brick wall. She smiled down at me; she was still in her heels. She reached and took the butt out from behind my ear. "Gotta light?"

"Are you old enough? I don't want to be an enabler."

"Says the dude at a strip club." She stuck her hand in my breast pocket and took my lighter out. She flicked it on, touching it to the tip of the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke.

"Don't lose that. It's my last one." We started walking towards the train station. I took her luggage because it was weighing her down. She didn't have much to carry. When her—_my—_cigarette reached the end of its life she threw it on the grown. By that time we were already at the station. I payed for her MetroCard. I didn't receive a thanks immediately, but I figured she thought I didn't need one. So I was amused when she took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

I wasn't embarrassed of my shitty apartment. I refused to let Charles, my dad, pay for a nicer place to stay. He always told me I should build myself instead of relying on other people. He was the last person I wanted to rely on. The thing I was embarrassed about was Aidan. He had made such a fool of himself when he first met Mallory. I hadn't exactly told him about her staying with us. I hoped when I opened the door he would be dressed without having his junk hanging out for everyone to see.

I set her shit down on the living room floor when we got inside. I saw her inspect the place. I lived in a dump. Cobwebs lined the ceilings and we hadn't even swept since we moved in. It shocked me when she said, "Nice fucking place," and went to lean back on the couch.

"You've got to be kidding."

"You could use a sweep, I'll admit."

"Look up. The ceiling leaks."

She shrugged, crossing her arms behind her head. Her legs were spread out, her white, creamy thighs showing for me. "Does your toilet work?"

"Of course it does."

"Consider yourself lucky. I had to shit in my backyard for a week." My eyes bulged at her comment. "I'm just fucking with you. Jesus Christ. Get a sense of humor." She laughed, putting her feet on the crowded coffee table.

"Um..." I cleared my throat, at a loss of words. "I'll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed." She stood to follow me for the tour of the apartment. I grabbed her shit before I started walking. We made it to the kitchen. She stood there, waiting for my commentary. I had to clear my throat again. "The kitchen." I waved my hand. "Aidan and I don't cook much. We usually get take out or whatever."

"I can cook," she said.

"Can you?"

"Gumbo. That's it. I'm from New Orleans."

I smiled at her, teeth and all. "Sounds good. Next," I said, leaving the kitchen to go to the hall. In a little nook that verged left from the hall was Aidan's bunk. Under it was what we used as storage. There was a desk with a ratty old computer on it. Nothing special.

"Well damn," Mallory said. "He must not get much. Who can fuck on a bunk bed?"

"One of the reasons I offered to use the couch." I shook my head. "Is your mind always in the gutter?"

"Oh, I'm sure anyone would ask." I disagreed and moved on to our next stop.

"The bathroom. It needs a good cleaning. The shower works fine. Aidan uses up the hot water mostly, but the pressure's great. And our toilet works." I opened the bathroom door a bit more to show her where the toilet was. I waved at her to follow me. "Our last stop on the tour," I said, joking. "My bedroom. Now your bedroom." I set her things down carefully. "Um, just don't go through my shit. Private, you know?"

She nodded. "I understand. But you better not be a peeping Tom like you said! Or else I'll be homeless." She sat at the edge of my bed. "Been there, done that. Not fucking happening again."

"I won't let it happen again. Stay here as long as you need."

"I'm not a charity case."

"No, I know. You're a big girl. You've proven that you can handle yourself." I went to sit next to her. "I would feel guilty, though, if you were on the streets. No one deserves that. Maybe Aidan, but not you," I said with a laugh. "And I haven't even known you for a week. _That's_ special."

"You're a good person, Tyler. Thanks." Her hand went to mine for a second time that night.

"Oh, my family would tell you otherwise," I joked. "You're a good person, too. I bet you think you're not. You are. I think you're doing what's best to survive, even if it's wrong."

"Don't get deep with me. I can handle myself." She snatched back her hand.

I got up, showing her I clearly disagreed with her. What she was doing to herself was wrong. She couldn't see that. I didn't want to start anything that night so I kept my mouth shut on the matter. "Were you serious about that gumbo?" I asked to lighten the mood.

She was biting her nails. Mallory took her fingers out of her mouth. She gave me a full smile, the biggest one I'd ever seen her wear. "Men," she scoffed, standing up.

"You're going to make some now?"

"Hell no!" She moved around me. "It's too late for that shit." I watched her go back to the couch. "No TV?"

"Stolen."

"Great. Safe. You have a bat at least." She nodded towards the aluminum bat that was leaned against the wall.

"Safety measure."

"I feel safe."

"We have a deadbolt, too."

"That ought to keep the pimps out." Jesus Christ. Some of the things she said shocked me. I scratched my neck nervously. I didn't know how to reply so I took a seat next to her. She looked at me through her lashed. I felt her breath come closer to me until she placed a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Thanks again. Goodnight. Go to your room. I want to sleep here."

"Why?"

"Dude, that's fucking gross that you want to sleep where your best friend fucks his whores."

I laughed, throwing my head back. "I'll go get your stuff."

I made a quick stop to the bathroom before I brought back her clothes. Mallory was fast asleep with her heels kicked off on the couch. Her body was sprawled out awkwardly on the length of the couch. Her mahogany hair was a tangled mess, yet she still looked beautiful. I pulled an old afghan off of the back of the couch to cover her up. I wanted to say goodnight, but I didn't want to wake her so I left and went to bed. The next morning I found her laying next to me in my bed. I was flustered. She lifted her head up, feeling my stares. Her green eyes looked back at me. "Your couch sucks ass," she said and went back to bed.


	7. Chapter Seven: Mallory

**Mallory**

Tyler and I were like oil and water from that week on. When he said he was messy, he meant it. I wasn't a clean freak, but I wasn't unkempt, either. So when Tyler left his beer bottles and cigarette butts lying around the house I lost it. I spent some days scrubbing the floors, tidying up so I didn't feel like I was living in a rat's nest. It was out of character for me, but I felt I needed to do something to repay him.

I relaxed on the weekend until I remembered...

Dammit. I had another day of work—another day of getting underpaid for the single talent I had. There were some jobs that were worth the low wage salary and dancing wasn't one of them. I was used to the cat calls that were hollered at me. I had no problem with the customers' sneaky little touches. I was immune to everything, so when Paul called me upstairs to work a private room, I followed him to listen to his orders.

Paul wasn't a good looking guy. Probably why he owned a strip club. He was balding, with a crooked nose to match his teeth. His neck was too long, his face birdlike. Good looking guys usually had nothing to do with the club. When Tyler and Aidan came in for the first time, it was a huge relief. They were something to look at, something to keep me occupied from this hellhole.

"'Sup, Paulie?"

"You've got a customer. He called a few minutes back. He's on his way." Paul had a thick New York accent. It was hard to make out his words when I first met him. I finally had started to understand him.

"He made a reservation for a hooker? Can't wait to meet this guy." I scoffed.

Paul shook his head, crossing his arms. "Don't speak that way to the customer, girl." He uncrossed his arms, twisting the ring on his right ring finger. "Do good tonight and you'll get a good chunk."

I thought about that. "How much for this are you getting?"

"Is it your business?" He raised a blonde, graying brow.

Great. He's usually never secretive with his money. I guess I'm not going to just suck this dude's dick. I hoped this man wouldn't try to strangle me like last time. People were into weird shit.

"That's only, like, a hundred for me, isn't it?"

"Maybe he'll tip ya," Paul said and walked off to show other girls to their rooms.

"_Godammit._" I groaned and turned into one of the private rooms. The rooms were all disgusting, STD infested pig-styes. I had my shit together. I was clean. No diseases or infections. I got that shit tested monthly. Paulie didn't require it, but I did. Better safe than sorry. I didn't want big welts on my face. I made my customers use a condom, too, just in case they weren't clean. I was on the pill as well just to be safe. I didn't want a kid. There were already too many girls at the club that had gotten knocked up from this life.

I chilled on the the limp, filthy mattress until I saw my customer. _Fuck_. I recognized the face. He was a regular. I'd never fucked him before, but I had danced for him on previous occasions. I knew who he was exactly because I opened his wallet before to steal his cash after the fight. Georgie was still sporting a cut on his lip and two shiners from a broken nose. He walked in with a limp. Tyler got him good. Through my fear I laughed to myself. Georgie was a big man and Tyler took him out single handedly while drunk off his ass. He slowly shut the door behind him. He appraised me; I was still splayed out on the mattress. I closed my legs and lifted myself up.

I expected him to speak first, but he didn't. He just stared at me. I stared back, noticing more details about him. Like his frumpled up blonde hair and that he needed to shave. I coughed, mustering up the strength to talk to him. "I—what can I do?" I coughed nervously. "What can I do for you?"

No reply. Georgie dragged himself to sit by me on the bed. I waited for him to say something. He could take as long as he wanted. Paul would give me a bonus if I took long enough. He turned his head slowly. His gruff voice broke my thoughts. "You can shut the fuck up and give me back my money."

Shit. That was quick. I stood, heading for the door to make my escape. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me back to sit by him. "Look at my face." He pointed with one fat finger at his crooked nose. "_Your_ fucking boyfriend fucked me up. _You_ stole my money." He got up to tower over me.

" Don't fucking touch me!" I yanked my arm back. "Listen, man. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." It was best to play innocent, to lie. I'd get in deep shit if Paulie ever found out. I'd be thrown out onto the street. He again took my arm, but this time to get me up. I was weak compared to him so he easily pushed me against a wall. His hands wrapped around my waist, no doubt intending to leave marks on me. He pressed himself against me, and I could feel how much the situation excited him. I wouldn't let him hold power over me anymore. I raised my leg and stabbed him in the balls with my heel."Motherfucker!"

He toppled over, cursing and grabbing his dick. I tried to step over his large body to leave, but he caught my ankle and I fell over, too. For someone who was so crippled, he was quick. He climbed on top of me, nailing me down so I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. Panic welled up inside me. I was writhing under him, trying to find a way to take a breath. It was useless. I used my fingernails to scratch at his face, but he swept my hands aside. "If I had a way," he hissed, then stopped speaking. He took a breath, losing eye contact with me. "If I had a way," he tried again, not finishing. "...I would." Georgie's words weren't making sense. His breathing got heavy. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead; it landed on my face. I had no energy to react to how disgusting it was.

I should have screamed for help, but I was at a loss for words. How could I scream when I knew that no one cared if I died? Why would it matter to waste my last breath on something so useless? To scream would have been a mistake. I would have rather died silently. I didn't want my last act to be a waste of time like the rest of my life.

I wanted to ask him why he cared so much about the three hundred I stole from his wallet. Surely it wasn't a big amount. I had that much stashed away and more. I could give it back. Then I realized what I hadn't before: women couldn't hold power over him. He disliked that. When I took from him, I always took his empowerment away. I stole more than his money. I also took his ego, too.

His eyes were dark, bulging from their sockets. He had a faint smile on his face when he reached to throttle my neck. As he squeezed, I thought of nothing more than how useless my whole life was. I never fulfilled my dreams because I never had dreams. I never did anything because I never deserved anything better. Just like I didn't deserve Tyler's sincerity. At that thought, I drifted away.


	8. Chapter Eight: Tyler

**Tyler**

I figured I could pick Mallory up early. She'd been working too hard, and I knew she was doing overtime. I also knew she wasn't getting payed for it. I hung around the bar area, wondering where she was. Girls were offering me drinks and I had to decline, knowing that one sip would make me want more. I wasn't addicted, just stressed out. During the day I worked in the library and I had a lot on my mind. My job was busy work. It wasn't hard, so it gave me a lot of time to think about things. To think about Mallory. She stayed at the apartment during the day, hanging out with Aidan if he didn't have classes. I wasn't worried about those two being together. Aidan knew his limits better than I knew mine.

Angel, one of the strippers, told me Mallory was upstairs talking to her boss. I'd missed her by a few minutes. I was getting antsy, so I said fuck it and ordered a beer. It couldn't hurt. The crowd was getting larger and larger in the club. I stood to let a customer take my seat. Impatient, I killed my beer and set it on the bar. I worked my way through the crowd to find a creaky, red-carpeted staircase. I climbed it, holding onto the railing just in case the floor fell in. I spotted a man at the top. His stomach protruded from his waist, and his hairline was receding. I recognized him as Paul, Mallory's boss—pimp, whatever. We'd discussed him once a few days ago. Mallory described him as an asshole, but the only one who would employ her because of her age. I flagged him down.

"Hey!" I walked towards him. "Have you seen Mallory?"

"Mallory...," he said, pretending to be in deep thought like he didn't know who she was.

"Yeah."

A beat. "She's busy right now."

I groaned. I didn't feel like waiting any longer. "Do you know when she'll be done?" Paul was getting annoyed by my questioning.

"Depends. Her customer could take a while."

Just what I feared- -that she was with a customer. That someone was taking advantage of her, a child. That some man's greasy fingers were touching her soft skin, leaving marks. The hardest part about imagining the scene was knowing that she'd have to pretend to enjoy it, that she'd have to continue to lie to herself. Anger rose inside me. Jealousy, too, was in my thoughts. I clenched my fists. "Where the fuck is she?" I tried to contain my outburst, but it wasn't working.

"I can't tell ya that. Customer confidentiality." He held his hands up. He scooted around me with what tiny room he had in the slim hallway. He left me standing up there while he descended downstairs. I started finding her quickly, banging on the doors that lined the hallway until I heard a response. I heard squeals of other girls, grunts of other men, but none of them were Mallory's.

"God fucking dammit!" I cursed, moving on to the next door. I heard screams, but they weren't of pleasure. They were of fear, pain.

They were Mallory's.

I tried turning the door knob, but it was locked. I jiggled it fiercely, begging it to unlock. It was no use to I lifted my foot up and slammed it against the door. The trimming cracked, and I pushed it open. I was right—it was Mallory. She was sprawled out on the floor with bruises forming on her neck, her hair in a wild, tangled mess. On top of her was a large man. His hands were making his way under her black bra. I lost it, running to kick the man in his side. He fell over, letting Mallory free. She was knocked unconscious. I tried to move her, but the man was quick for his size. He shot up off the ground and I got a clear look at his face. It was the same one from the fight last week. His face somehow was still bruised around the nose and a scab was healing on his face. I must of really got him good.

_And I'll do it again. _

I attempted to pull my fist back, but he caught it, twisting it. I almost felt my bones crack until his grip loosened when I grabbed his hair and slammed his head on the drywall. I heard a snapping sound; I ignored it, remembering someone more important. I bent down to pick up Mallory. She was skin and bones so it wasn't a feat. She didn't even squirm when she was lifted off of the floor. I instinctively put two fingers to her neck and checked her pulse. She wasn't dead, but she wasn't fine. Not again, I told myself. She couldn't get hurt again. Mallory had no one. I knew what that was like. When I was her age, I was rebellious like her. I got into deep shit. Fights, cigarettes, parties. It all started when I seventeen. She was already heading down the same hill I tumbled down. She was reaching rock bottom. When she did—it was inevitable—she would need someone to soften the blow. I'd be the parachute, there to make sure she landed in the safest manner possible. It was all I could do to pacify the situation.

I brought her out to the hallway, setting her down carefully against a wall. Some of the girls had heard the noise of the fight. Angel, the dark-skinned dancer I was seeing more and more often, ran through the girls who surrounded the unconscious Mallory. "Is the okay?"

"I think she'll be fine. For now." I bent down next to Mallory. Angel soon followed. "Did someone get the manager? That fucker needs to go." I gestured with disgust towards the open door where you could see the man's large form passed out on the floor. I tucked the loose strands of hair behind Mallory's hair to get them out of her face, grazing my thumb on her cheek.

"I- -,"Angel cleared her throat. "We've been told not to tell the boss about any trouble. He said he doesn't wanna hear about it."

"Jesus fucking Christ," I spat. "Why the hell would anyone work here?" I exclaimed. Angel got a solemn look on her face. I apologized swiftly.

"Not a problem. For some of us, it's all we have. It's all she has." Angel took Mallory's limp hand.

"No," I told Angel, looking at the beautiful, broken girl before me. "Not anymore." It felt right to say it. To finally get it out. Mallory didn't have to be alone anymore. She should know that. None of this was her fault, and I'd be the one there who would eventually get her to step out of her rut.

_Not anymore_, I repeated in my head.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! Leave me love!**


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